


Starstruck

by bennyfanks



Category: Les Misérables (2012)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Barista Courfeyrac, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Law Student Enjolras, M/M, Med Student Combeferre, Musician Grantaire, Non-Binary Jean Prouvaire, Starstruck AU, Strangers to Lovers, Trans Courfeyrac, Trans Enjolras, Trans Male Character
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-11
Updated: 2018-02-20
Packaged: 2019-03-16 16:44:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 3,965
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13640265
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bennyfanks/pseuds/bennyfanks
Summary: R is a pop star, whose music and rugged good looks have made the world fall for him. Enjolras wants nothing to do with him.





	1. Chapter 1

“Oh. My. _God_!” came the squeal from the man sitting across the room. Enjolras looked up from his laptop, eyebrow cocked. Courfeyrac laid on the loveseat, legs dangling over the edge. He clutched his phone tightly, intently reading something with his mouth agape. “Oh my God!” he repeated, abruptly scrambling up and crossing the short distance between the loveseat to where Enjolras was comfortably curled up at one end of the sofa. He shoved his phone in the the other man’s face excitedly. “Look at this!”

Annoyed, Enjolras swatted Courfeyrac’s hand out of his face. “How am I supposed to look when it’s this close to me? Just let me see what you’re freaking out about,” he muttered, snatching the phone from Courfeyrac. He had expected some sort of article about an approaching apocalypse or another scandal unearthed about a senator. Squinting, Enjolras scrolled through and discovered it was-

“R is performing at a club in Hollywood next weekend for Éponine Thénardier’s birthday! Do you know what this _means_?” Courfeyrac asked, taking his phone back and reading the article over again, grinning like an idiot.

“Uh… I do not,” Enjolras stated matter-of-factly.

“Enj!” Courfeyrac collapsed on the couch next to him. “We leave for Los Angeles on Friday, remember? Which _means_ we’ll be in Los Angeles at the same time as R. _R!_ We can go watch his performance! Oh my God, what if I get a chance to _meet him_!”

Enjolras sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. That’s right. He hadn’t realized that Combeferre’s medical convention was next week. The hospital at which Combeferre was doing his residency was taking all the residents to a convention in L.A. to hear from some speakers, and he had decided to invite Enjolras and Courfeyrac to come so they could all take a “much-needed” (Enjolras disagreed) vacation.

“You are _not_ going to meet him, and who said anything about _we?_ ” Enjolras asked.

“Well, if you don’t come with me, I’m gonna go anyways. And we both know that me going somewhere alone is dangerous for all parties involved. So you’re gonna come with me!” Courfeyrac beamed. “Oh come on, it won’t be that bad! Just come be a sport and try to get into this club with me so I can meet _R._ ” He always said the singer’s name so… dreamily. As if he were a 10-year-old girl fantasizing about kissing her crush on the playground. Enjolras just rolled his eyes at him. He honestly didn’t get the big deal with this _R_ guy. He was just some singer who made every teenage girl (and Courfeyrac) fall in love with him with his “romantic” music and messy aesthetic. His songs were simple, to say the least. Just the same 4 chords over and over with lyrics cheesy enough to appeal to his demographic. But according to Courfeyrac, he was an amazing artist.

“Fine,” Enjolras conceded. He closed his laptop and turned to face Courfeyrac, sitting cross-legged. “I’ll go to this dumb concert with you. But you owe me one.”

Courfeyrac’s eyes gleamed. “How about we find a protest to go to while we’re there?”

“Deal,” he agreed, a smile creeping across his face.

 

* * *

 

Friday came before Enjolras knew it.

Courfeyrac had almost made them late to leave for the airport when he spent 30 painstaking minutes picking out the _perfect_ outfit for "when he met R", but they ended up making it to the gate just in time. The seats that they booked on the plane worked out so Enjolras was sitting in the window seat, with Combeferre next to him and Courfeyrac across the aisle. He inwardly cheered, since he had already put up with Courfeyrac rattling on about his stupid crush on this stupid singer for the past… well, few years. But the hour long car ride to the airport was especially unbearable.

He used the 7-hour flight as an opportunity to catch up on some work. The law firm he was working under as an intern had granted him the week long vacation, but sent him with a boatload of files to sort through and paperwork to fill out. Thankfully the firm had recently gone digital, because with the amount of work that had been dumped upon him he could have filled an entire suitcase. Enjolras grabbed his laptop out of his backpack on the floor below him, paid for the (far too expensive) in-flight wifi, and logged into his work account.

Only 20 minute later, from the corner of his eye, he noticed Courfeyrac staring at him, obviously trying to get his attention. He just shook his head and pulled his earbuds out of his pants pocket, plugging them into his laptop and sticking the buds in his ears. He didn’t actually put on any music, though. He just figured Courfeyrac would get the message and leave him alone. A moment later, however, Enjolras’ phone buzzed on the tray next to his laptop. He picked it up and turned it over, looking at the message on his lock screen.

 

Courfeyrac: hey enj. guess what.

 

Enjolras glared over at Courfeyrac, who was still staring at him, but now with a grin. Rolling his eyes, Enjolras shot back a text.

 

Enjolras: What?

 

The response came back only but a moment later.

 

Courfeyrac: right now

Courfeyrac: at this very moment

Courfeyrac: r is meeting with his manager

Enjolras: Why the hell do you know what he’s doing at every second of every day?

Courfeyrac: bc i’m in love

Enjolras: You have never met him in your life

Courfeyrac: ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

 

Enjolras sighed and set his phone down. He turned to Combeferre, intending to ask about this conference, but he found that the Xanax he had took before the flight had kicked in and he was out cold. He leaned against the window, staring down and watching the lights of New York City fade in the distance. _This is going to be an awful week_ , he thought, closing his eyes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank u for reading! this is based on my fave dcom, Starstruck, which is way too slept on.  
> please leave kudos and comments if u enjoyed!


	2. Chapter 2

“Your name is in the tabloids. _Again_.”

Grantaire closed the door behind him, making a beeline for the leather couch. He collapsed on it, legs propped up on the armrest. “Good afternoon to you, too. But yeah, tell me something I don’t know,” he chuckled, smiling cheekily at his manager, who stood fuming before him. The man threw a tabloid paper at him.

“You shoved a paparazzo?” Javert demanded. He definitely seemed pissed, but not all that surprised.

Grantaire glanced over the headline, _R Loses His Temper! Shocked Cameraman Tells All_. He just scoffed and tossed it on the floor. “The guy was way too close to me. I told him to back off and he didn’t. So…” He gestured vaguely.

“That’s the third time this month you’ve been in the press. What has gotten into you?”

Grantaire stared at him blankly. Javert huffed and walked around to make a big deal of sitting at his desk. “You’re _ruining_ your image, Grantaire. Everyone sees you as a spoiled brat. If this keeps up, no one will be willing to work with you. Is that what you want?” he said, voice steadily raising. Grantaire clenched his jaw and crossed his arms across his chest, still remaining silent. His manager stared at him for a few seconds before shaking his head.

“Look,” Javert finally sighed, exasperated. “SBA Films has been in touch with me. They’re interested in having you do a table read with them. _However_ , they’ve noticed your recent… lapses in judgement. They see your potential, but they don’t want an actor who will tarnish their reputation. I may be able to convince them, if you can just manage to stay out of the limelight for, I don’t know, 2 weeks? Can you handle that?”

Grantaire suddenly swung his legs over and stood. “Fine,” he said, green eyes boring into his manager’s dull grays. “No problem. See you tomorrow.” With that he turned and left, without even waiting for a response.

Once in the elevator down to the parking garage, Grantaire fished his phone out of his pocket and scrolled through his contacts until reaching “asswipe.” He pushed call and waited impatiently.

“Hello!” answered Jehan in a sing-song voice. “How’s it?”

“Shitty,” Grantaire deadpanned. “Wanna come over and smoke before we have to leave for Ep’s party?” He rubbed his face as the elevator opened to the garage.

“You know I do,” Jehan said, laughing a little. “Javert again?”

Grantaire just groaned as he fished his car keys out of his pocket.

“Yeah,” the person on the other line said. “Yeah, I agree.”

He unlocked his car and collapsed into the driver’s seat, head resting on the steering wheel. “He will _not_ get off my ass. Y’know, he acts like I’m still a 14-year-old kid, but I’m 22! I’m a grown-up who can make his own decisions!” Grantaire started the car, setting his phone on the console and putting Jehan on speaker. “He lectured me _again_ today about ‘ruining my image.’ It’s like, what image? The one you want me to have? Maybe I wanna create an image for myself!” He peeled out of the parking garage, heading towards his apartment.

Jehan hummed from the other line. “Why can’t you just fire him? I mean, the man works for you, not the other way around!”

Grantaire laughed dryly. “Oh trust me, I’ve tried. When I was 18 I tried, but he told me he’d ruin my career in a second.”

“He can do that?” Jehan asked incredulously.

“He can do anything. I’m still convinced he’s in on the whole Illuminati thing.” That earned a snort from Jehan.

Grantaire pulled into the parking garage of his apartment and turned off his car. “Well, whenever you wanna come over, I’ll have a joint waiting for you.”

“Wow, you really know how to make a fella swoon,” Jehan said dreamily. “I’ll be there in 20. Don’t have too much fun without me.” Grantaire’s phone beeped, signaling that Jehan had ended the call. Sighing, he kicked open his car door and hurried upstairs.

* * *

 

4 hours later, Grantaire stood in front of the full length mirror in his bathroom. Jehan had made sure that he at least put on some clean clothes, but his hair stayed unruly and messy underneath his green beanie. He loved Éponine dearly, but she was sadly mistaken if she thought for a second he would clean up for her.  He grabbed his bottle of eyedrops and squeezed a few drops into each eye, hoping that by the time they reached the club his eyes wouldn’t be as red. God forbid the paparazzi take some pictures of him and have Javert find out he was smoking again. He gave himself one more glance in the mirror before heading out to the living room.

Jehan was laying sprawled across Grantaire’s couch, just playing on their phone. They had obviously raided his closet while he was showering, as they wore a pair of his skinny jeans and a leather jacket. They looked over at him, sitting up and stretching. “Ready to go, finally?” they asked, hopping up.

Grantaire went to grab his car keys from the hook, before stopping himself. “...Let’s take your car,” he said, turning on his heel to face Jehan, who looked confused. “I don’t wanna deal with the fucking paparazzi today. Let’s just take your car, then you can drop me off behind the club and I can just sneak in the back.” Jehan shrugged, grabbing their keys out of their messenger bag and tossing them to Grantaire. “Alrighty, let’s do this then.”

* * *

 

Even from down the street, Grantaire could see how busy the club was. Jehan drove past as Grantaire sunk down in his seat, slipping on a pair of Ray-Bans and pulling his beanie further over his head. “Okay, here’s the plan,” he stated. “Take a right at this light, circle around to the back of the club, then drop me off. Then you can pull up, tell the press I couldn’t make it tonight. Go inside, let me through the back. Bam.” Grantaire mimed an explosion with his hands and Jehan smiled at him. “You got it chief,” they said, saluting.

They took the next two rights and pulled up next to an alley behind the club. “That’ll be 15 bucks,” Jehan said with a grin, holding their hand out. Grantaire just scoffed and gave them a high five. “See ya inside, dweeb,” he muttered, checking that the coast was clear before opening the car door and quickly disappearing into the alleyway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> as always thank u so much for reading and supporting me by leaving kudos and comments! it means a lot to me!  
> i've been wanting to write this au for so long but i've been procrastinating! but now that i've started i can't stop i'm a writing machine yall


	3. Chapter 3

“Okay,” Courfeyrac said as he pulled their rental car off to the side of the road. “Just wait here. I’ll be back soon.” He excitedly gathered his wallet and phone and opened the car door. Before them was Club Musain, the venue where Éponine Thénardier was throwing her birthday party and where  _ R _ was going to be performing. Courfeyrac was practically vibrating on the car ride there, squealing about different scenarios in which he would meet R. Enjolras just stared out the window the entire way there, trying to tune him out. He couldn’t believe he agreed to tag along.

“Wait,” Enjolras interrupted, pointing at the sign in front of them. “That says no parking. Do you want to have the car get towed and have to explain to Combeferre why we’re carless?” He folded his arms across his chest, raising his eyebrows at the other man. Courfeyrac paused and thought for a moment before a light came on in his eyes. “ _ Well, _ it’s not technically parking if someone’s sitting in the car, right? It’s just waiting. So just climb over into the driver’s seat and now you’re  _ waiting _ .” Courfeyrac got out of the car and gestured at the empty seat before him. Rolling his eyes, Enjolras muttered a “fine” and clambered over the center console into the driver’s seat. Courfeyrac just grinned at him. “I’ll make it fast, I promise you!” he exclaimed before slamming the door shut and running across the street to the nightclub. Enjolras sunk in the seat, watching him walk through the doors of the venue and wondering why he was even here.

* * *

 

“This is Courfeyrac! You can leave a message but I probably won’t get back to you.”

Enjolras groaned, hitting the end call button and tossing his phone on the passenger's seat next to him. Two hours. It had been  _ two fucking hours _ . Courfeyrac said he’d “be right back.” Enjolras scoffed, mostly at himself for believing him. He threw his head back, staring at the ceiling of the car. He could be back at the hotel right now, in bed and getting some work done. But instead he was in a tiny, stuffy car at a club in Hollywood with absolutely no wifi. 

He sat there just staring at the ceiling for a few minutes, before suddenly getting an idea. Courfeyrac was probably not going to be back anytime soon so… what harm would a quick walk do? Walking around would be more productive than  _ sitting there _ , and he might find some good ideas for his poli-sci paper along the way. And he hadn’t noticed any police come by, so the chance of the car getting towed in the small amount of time he was gone was very slim. Before he could even give it a second thought, he pulled the keys out of the ignition and got out of the car.  _ Just a quick lap around the block, _ he told himself, taking long strides across the crosswalk.

He just strolled mindlessly for a few minutes, drinking in the pleasant evening air. It was a lot warmer here than in New York, that was for sure. And the streets were much less busy and crowded than back at home, he remarked. He started brainstorming ideas for his next poli-sci essay, thinking about work, planning things to do to keep Courfeyrac entertained while Combeferre was at his conference. Deep in thought, he hadn’t even noticed that he had wandered into a dimly lit alley behind a building. He just kept strolling and staring at his shoes in deep concentration.

One second he was making his way through the alley, thinking about where the nearest beach to their hotel was, the next… he was on the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the long wait and short chapter! i've already started chapter 4 though, which is when the spicier action will begin!!! ;)))  
> pls kudo and comment if u enjoyed!


	4. Chapter 4

Grantaire left the stage almost as soon as he had entered it. His fans, fresh from disappointment at hearing that R wouldn’t be performing, screamed and cried as soon as he step foot onstage. Grantaire really had no energy to give them a good performance, so his beanie and sunglasses stayed on as he sang one of his newest hits to mask the exhaustion on his face. The fans didn’t seem to care, as they still went nuts. After just one song, he wished  Éponine a happy birthday, and escaped backstage.

He hurried towards the door that he had come in from, pulling his phone out and dialing Jehan. Grantaire could hear loud dance music and yelling when they picked up. “Y’ello!” they greeted. “I’ll escape in a sec. Same place?”

“Yep,” Grantaire answered, pulling on a sweatshirt as he ran down a stairwell. “I’ll wait out back for you. Hurry, please, I wanna get out before the paparazzi heard I was here and swarm the place.” He looked behind him, just to make sure that no one was following him. He could never be too sure that no one was.  _ Just a perk of the job _ , he thought bitterly. He heard his phone beep softly, a sign that Jehan had hung up. He shoved his phone in his back pocket as he reached the bottom of the stairwell. He turned into a narrow hall, leading to the back exit.  _ Freedom _ , he thought, as he speed-walked down the hall. 

Once he reached the door, he Spartan kicked it open. A dangerous habit, he realized. Especially when the door hit something and he heard a thud from outside. “Shit,” Grantaire cursed, opening the door again like a normal human and stepping outside. Laying on the asphalt by the door he had just kicked open was a curly-haired blonde kid, probably not older than 17, he remarked. The strange kid clutched the back of his head as he sat up slowly and glared at Grantaire. “What the fuck?” he groaned, wincing at the pain in his head. 

Panicking, Grantaire kneeled down beside the kid, putting a hand on his back. “Shit- I’m sorry, did I hit you?” The kid slapped his arm away and rolled his eyes. “No, the door hit me itself,” he snapped. Grantaire nervously looked up and down the alley, checking for any paparazzi or sign of Jehan. “This is not good,” he mumbled. “Really not good.”

The boy scoffed. “For me or you? Because I’m pretty certain I’m the one who was just nailed with a metal door,” he quipped, trying to stand up but immediately collapsing back to the ground. Grantaire put an arm on his back again, attempting to steady him. That’s when the boy’s eyes finally met his own, and his eyebrows furrowed. “Wait, you’re that-”

Grantaire shushed the boy loudly, looking over his shoulders again. “Look, uh, I’ll give you free tickets to my next show if you just keep your mouth shut,” he said in a stage-whisper. The boy laughed bitterly at him. “Sure, like I want tickets to one of your mind-numbing concerts. I’ll pass, thank you very much.”

Before Grantaire could respond to that, Jehan’s car whipped around the corner. “Okay, uh, I’ll take you to go get some help,” he stammered. He grabbed the boy’s hand, helping him to his feet and wrapping an arm around his waist for support. The boy pulled away from his grip. “I don’t need your help, or any for that matter. I’m fine. I just want to get the hell out of here,” he objected, but ended up nearly falling over after taking a few steps. Grantaire quickly steadied him and as Jehan pulled up, opened the backseat of the car. 

Jehan looked back at them from the driver’s seat, eyebrows raised. “Uh, who the hell is this, dude?” they queried. Grantaire just shook his head and helped the boy into the backseat. “No time for questions. Find a hospital,” he demanded, quickly hopping into the front seat before Jehan took off.

“I do  _ not _ need to go to a hospital,” the boy objected yet again. “All I  _ need _ is to get back to my car and get to my hotel before my friend calls the police and reports me missing.” Jehan drove towards the nearest ER, glancing back and forth between Grantaire next to them in the passenger seat and the boy behind them in the rearview mirror. “No, really,” they asked. “Who is this kid, and why is he in my car right now?”

“This is…” Grantaire paused for a moment before turning his body to look at him. “Oh, what is your name, anyways?”

“Oh, now you bother to ask? It’s Alexandre, if you must know. Alexandre Enjolras.”  
“Right, right.” Grantaire waved his hand, as if he had known all along. “This here’s Alexandre Enjolras. I hit him in the head with a door and now he probably has a concussion or something.”

“ _ Or something _ ,” Enjolras mocked, huffing and blowing his hair out of his eyes. “This is all incredibly unnecessary, you know. My friend is a medical student. Just take me back to my hotel and forget it,” he insisted. Grantaire held up his index finger. “Ah, ah, ah. Key word:  _ student _ .” He pointed out. “Not a doctor. I’m going to take you to a real doctor to make sure I didn’t just scramble your brains.” Enjolras groaned, leaning back in his seat with his arms across his chest and looking out the window.

Grantaire’s gaze stayed fixed on him. As they passed streetlamps, the light illuminated his face, accenting his cheekbones and jaw. His steely blue eyes glinted as the light shined on them. He must have noticed Grantaire’s staring, as he glared at him and snapped, “Can I help you?” Grantaire just cocked an eyebrow at him. “Where are your parents, anyways? What kind of people let their kid just run around the streets of Hollywood at 10 at night?” he asked. 

Enjolras snorted. “ _ Parents? _ I don’t need my parents’ permission anymore. How old do you think I am?” Grantaire shrugged sheepishly. “I don’t know, 16, maybe 17?”

“Try 21,” he replied with a dry smile, again turning his head to stare out the window.  
“Oh.” Grantaire sat forward in his seat. “My bad, I guess.”

The rest of the ride to the ER was mostly silent, save for occasional mumbles from the backseat about how ridiculous this all was. Jehan finally pulled into the parking lot, stopping in the nearest space to the entrance. 

“Okay,” Grantaire sighed, popping open the door. “Wait here,  _ please _ , I promise this won’t be long at all.” Jehan laughed at him, raising an eyebrow. “Hell no! I don’t wanna sit around waiting for you all night.” The man groaned. “ _ Fine _ . Give me your keys, then. Just catch a cab home and I’ll bring your car in the morning.”

“Why don’t we make this all easier and just, I don’t know,  _ take me home _ ?” Enjolras piped from the back seat. Grantaire hopped out of the car and opened the back door. “Sorry, dude, but I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I hurt you and just left you to die,” he said, smiling cheekily. 

“I’m sure you could,” Enjolras said snidely as he got out of the car, pushing the other man’s arm away when he reached out to help him up. “Let’s just get this over with.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks so much for reading as always!! this chapter was really fun to write  
> pls leave kudos and comments if you enjoyed!


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